That Cannot Command Himself
by Mara Greengrass
Summary: Shooting arrows as therapy only goes so far.


Clint stands at perfect attention the entire time Fury is talking to him. (He never stands at attention, so he figures it will make Fury twitchy.) He stares at a point just behind the director's right ear and lets the words about lack of blame, vacation time, and mandatory counseling wash over him.

Fury stops and glares, waving a hand. "Get out of here, Barton. Don't come back until your head is on straight."

Clint thinks about pointing out he'd done a damn good job as an Avenger, but it's not worth the energy. He marches out and back to the under-construction Stark Tower. (He hadn't planned on staying there, but he couldn't stand being in any SHIELD base for more than a few minutes.)

* * *

Captain America ("Call me Steve") finds him sitting in the kitchen, idly stirring a spoon in a bowl of soup. (It appears to be tom kha from his favorite stall in Bangkok. He strongly suspects Natasha and Tony are in collusion.)

Clint looks up as Steve sits down. "'Sup, dude?"

Steve gets that slightly pinched look he always has when he's trying not to ask what people are talking about. "I wanted to see how you're doing. After..."

Clint's getting tired of people trailing off at the end of sentences. "Shitty." He takes a spoonful of soup in the hopes that will distract him.

"Understandable." Steve pauses. "Clint...we've all done things, been made to do things, that we hated or regretted. I know how you feel-"

"No, you don't!" Clint takes a breath and modulates his tone. "Were your superiors inside your head?"

Steve doesn't bother to answer.

"And have you ever considered 'I was just following orders' to be a good defense?"

"It's not the same-"

"Exactly my point." Clint takes another spoonful of soup. It really is good soup.

Steve watches him eat for a little longer, then nods once. "We'll talk again later. You're not ready."

"Thanks, Mom."

"That's Dad to you," Steve says as he leaves the kitchen.

* * *

There's no way Clint's going to call Natasha "Mom" when he finds her sitting on his bed reading a book in Russian (probably something depressing, although that's kind of a gimme when he sees Cyrillic letters). She looks up when he comes in, then slides off the bed to walk over to him. "You're acting like an idiot."

"The psychiatrists must have sent you, with loving care like that." He strolls past her and lies down, knowing how much she hates to see shoes on the bed.

"I'm told you've been trying to hack in to determine how many injured and dead."

He doesn't bother to confirm or deny. She wouldn't have said it if she wasn't sure.

"It's pointless. You're not to blame. You've got to get over this."

"Get over it," he repeats, staring at the ceiling, so new it hasn't yet garnered any cracks or stains. "Like you've gotten over Istanbul. And Vladivostok. And-"

"Enough!"

He knows from her tone that he's hurt her. "I don't think I'm going to get over the memory of doing Loki's every bidding. Willingly. And carrying out the invasion of the Helicarrier."

She stalks back to stand over him and he almost hopes she's going to hit him. "You're not the only one who suffered Loki's attentions. Perhaps Dr. Selvig-"

"Dr. Selvig installed a fail-safe in the machine. What the hell did I do?"

"Shoot Director Fury in the body armor rather than his head?"

Closing his eyes, Clint nods. "True. One life saved. Out of how many?"

"Even if I knew, I still wouldn't tell you."

Clint grits his teeth. "Yes, there were others caught by Loki. But nobody else had to lead a raid on their own colleagues. Nobody else plotted it, planned it, provided sensitive data for it."

A long silence, then he feels her lips brush his forehead. "Please, Clint. Please come to terms with this. We need you."

* * *

Thor claps his shoulder as they pass in a hallway. "My friend, how goes your recovery?"

Clint narrows his eyes at him. "Has Loki ever controlled you?" he asks bluntly.

"Even with the might of the Tesseract, it is unlikely his powers would extend so far as to enthrall another of Asgard." Thor frowns. "But it shows no weakness in you that he was able to do so."

"Thanks, I think."

"You will be a stronger warrior for this. You have seen the dangers of power."

"Great, big guy. Thanks for the pep talk." Clint keeps walking, hoping Thor won't follow.

* * *

Even though it's a wreck, the building is still full of interesting spots to sit and look at the city. He's perched outside the window of an empty and destroyed office on the 13th floor (yeah, he likes symbolism, so sue him) when Iron Man swoops down in front of him and hovers, flipping open the faceplate. "There you are. How'd you convince Jarvis not to give away your location."

"I asked politely."

"Huh." Tony actually seems to be thinking about it. "I'll have to try that sometime. But the reason I'm here is that everyone's getting tired of all the moping. So, you killed a few people in the line of duty. It's not like you did it on purpose."

"Have you ever considered a career in psychotherapy? Your sessions wouldn't take very long, since all your patients would throw themselves out the window within the first five minutes."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Oh, melodrama. Knock it off. I've got the license for all melodrama inside Stark Tower, thank you very much. It's right there in the contract."

"I didn't sign one."

"I'll have to remedy that. My point is that you're not the only one."

"Oh god."

"Clint, look at me." Tony's annoying tone goes suddenly serious. "You think Iron Man never causes collateral damage? You think I never kill anyone while trying to save someone else?"

Clint scowls. "What do you do?"

"I drink. A lot." The bantering tone is back.

Growling, Clint ignores that.

"Okay, fine. And I have five full-time staff who do nothing but track down survivors and victims' families and send them money."

"Does that help?" Clint is genuinely curious.

Tony pauses. "No."

Clint just stares at him.

Flipping the faceplate back down, Tony says "You know where to find me if you want to talk." And Iron Man is gone.

* * *

There's a little rooftop garden on Stark Tower that most people don't notice. It's easy to miss with the giant letters and the sweep of Iron Man's landing space, but it's there. It uses gathered rainwater to grow a variety of plants that Clint is sure someone has determined is the optimal choice for this location. It's a little weird, but in the middle of the city, it's nice to lean against a retaining wall and feel the plants around him.

Bruce isn't exactly a quiet walker, even when he's not the Hulk, but it doesn't look like he's trying to be stealthy as he rounds the corner and looks down at him, hands tucked casually in his pockets.

Clint's getting pretty tired of everyone trying to tell them they understand what happened to him and he opens his mouth to say so...and realizes he's looking at the guy who turns into a giant green rage monster against his will. He closes his mouth again and Bruce's lips quirk in a small smile.

"This seat taken?" he asks, pointing to the space next to Clint.

"Nope."

Bruce sits down, folds his arms, and leans his head back against the wall, tipping his face to the sun. He doesn't look like he's in any hurry to provide useful advice, so Clint follows suit, letting the sun warm his face.

-end-


End file.
